


Inside My Head

by Maeglin_Yedi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeglin_Yedi/pseuds/Maeglin_Yedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes to touch himself at night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: NC-17  
> Warning: dubious consent  
> Disclaimer: All these men belong to J.K. Rowling. 
> 
> Summary: Harry likes to touch himself at night. 
> 
> A/N: Big thanks to Gina for the quick beta!
> 
> Word count: 2740  
> First published: January 2005

"At least they're letting you play Quidditch again," Ron said hopefully.

"Yeah," Harry said, and pulled his pyjama shirt on. Ron looked at him as if he were expecting a longer reply, but Harry stayed silent and didn't look at his best friend. 

"And the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor seems all right," Neville offered from his spot on his bed. 

"Yeah," Harry said again. He realized his friends were just trying to cheer him up. But Harry didn't feel like being cheered up, so he slipped into his bed and pulled the covers up. 

"Good night," he said without much emotion in his voice. 

"Night," Ron said, and Harry didn't return his smile as he pulled the curtains closed around his bed. 

He was back at Hogwarts and he still didn't feel happy. He knew why, of course, but he tried not to think about Sirius. Thinking about Sirius only made Harry feel worse, so he thought about nothing in particular as he waited for the lights to go out in their dormitory. 

Seamus and Dean exchanged a few words in hushed whispers, Neville padded towards the bathroom one last time, and then finally the room went dark and Harry allowed himself to relax under the sheets. 

He knew what he should do so he'd be able to sleep peacefully that night. All throughout the summer nightmares had plagued him. Visions of the Department of Mysteries, the veil moving slowly in a breeze that no one could feel. Sirius' wide eyes just before he fell, and Voldemort's cold voice announcing Harry's own death. 

Harry reached under the sheets and pushed his pyjama bottoms down. If he touched himself, he'd relax. If he brought himself off, his mind would slip into a sated sleep and those tormenting nightmares would stay away. 

Usually. 

But it was better than doing nothing at all and throwing himself at those visions of death and grief.

It had become a routine over the summer. Something that needed to be done, not because Harry wanted to climax, but because it would fool his mind into a dreamless state that allowed Harry the rest he needed. 

Thumb over slit, fingers around the base. Stroke. Stroke. Squeeze. A sigh escaped Harry's lips. Stroke. Stroke. Squeeze. Another sigh. Stroke. Stroke. 

And then Harry got the distinct feeling he wasn't alone any longer. 

He opened his eyes, released his prick and expected Ron or Neville to be standing on the other side of the curtains. But as he yanked his curtains open he saw no one. Soft, even breaths rose from Ron's bed, and Neville was tucked under his own sheets. 

Pulling the curtains closed again, Harry relaxed back against his pillow and resumed his task. 

Stroke. Stroke. Squeeze. Stroke. Stroke. Squeeze. 

Harry sat up and worried his lip. He still felt as if someone were watching him, as if someone were silently telling him to spread his legs and stroke harder and faster. 

But no one was there. 

Perhaps this was what it usually felt like to touch yourself without the need to keep nightmares at bay, Harry thought. He couldn't really remember. It wasn't supposed to feel good, _arousing_ , to wank, was it? 

But perhaps his body decided this was the time for Harry to start enjoying his late-night wank sessions again. 

Licking his dry lips, Harry lay back down against the mattress, ran his fingers up and down his pulsing cock once and allowed his mind to run with those thoughts, those fantasies. 

_Spread your legs._

Harry let his legs fall open and drew his knees up, exposing himself to someone who wasn't there. He kept his eyes closed and concentrated on that silent voice that wrapped around him like a soft blanket, that gave him commands, not in words, but in images, in invisible touches to his heated skin. 

_Touch yourself._

Harry smiled at the person in his fantasies and curled his fingers around his prick. There wasn't a face. There wasn't even a body, but there was _someone_ who wanted him to feel good, and that was enough to stroke his cock harder and harder. There was someone who wanted to watch him like this, who wanted to see Harry's scrawny form, wanted to see how Harry moved his hand over his cock, sweat breaking out on his forehead while his nose wrinkled and his cheeks flushed. 

_Harder. So hard it hurts._

"God, yes," Harry sighed, because that was exactly what he wanted. It had to hurt for it to feel good, and he squeezed around his hard flesh and inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth. His toes curled in the sheets and his thighs tensed. 

It had to hurt, and Harry vaguely wondered why he hadn't thought of that sooner. He yanked on his prick, the flutters of pleasure a perfect mix with the surges of pain that shot through his trembling body. 

"Oh fuck," Harry breathed. He was close, so close he could feel his climax crawl up -- 

_Touch your sac. Squeeze it. Hard._

Harry didn't question that voice inside his mind. After all, it was his own voice, his own fantasy, and he reached down and closed his hand around his tense sac, squeezing his testicles until his legs jerked and he came, he came so hard he thought he was floating, and there wasn't a bed or a dormitory or a Hogwarts. 

Just Harry and a climax that ripped through him until he sagged against the mattress, exhausted. 

He didn't open his eyes, nor did he bother to wipe up the sticky mess on his sweat-slick skin. He didn't even release his prick, but slipped into the welcome arms of an invisible person who cradled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

*~*~*~*~*

"I can't believe that woman," Ron said, throwing his books in his trunk. "Five feet on the theory of transfiguring magical creatures."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, because he, too, felt outraged at the homework McGonagall had given them. Except that he didn't feel all that outraged. There was a little flutter of excitement in his stomach at the thought of slipping into his fantasy again, as he'd done every night for the past week.

"Good night," Neville said, drawing the curtains closed around his bed. 

"Yeah," Harry said, slipping under his covers. "Good night." He closed his curtains and waited for the noise and light to vanish so he'd be left with his thoughts and touches, his fantasy about someone watching him. 

Over the past week, Harry had developed a theory on the presence of that mysterious person, but he hadn't been able to share it with his friends, no matter how much he wanted to tell them what was happening. Somehow, the thought of having to confess to wanking every night in front of Ron and Hermione wasn't all that appealing. 

And thus Harry kept his theories private, just like his fantasies, and when the room finally went dark Harry closed his eyes and reached for his already hardening prick. 

"Who are you?" he whispered, squeezing around his cock. 

_I'm whoever you want me to be._

Harry pursed his lips. Perhaps this person couldn't confess to his true identity. Perhaps there were rules for that. 

"Can I call you Sirius?" 

_Yes. I want to see you touch your cock, Harry._

Smiling, Harry kicked the sheets off and pushed his pyjama bottoms down so he lay half-naked on the bed. It had to be Sirius, he thought, because only Sirius cared enough about him to want him to feel good every night. 

"Sirius," Harry moaned softly. "I like it when you see me like this."

_Stroke it. Hard, now. So hard it hurts._

"Yeah. It has to hurt." Harry's legs fell open and he tightened one hand around his cock and the other one around his sac. That had become his new routine. No more stroke, stroke, squeeze, but heated, excited touches that made Harry feel things he'd never felt before. 

_Keep your eyes closed. Just touch your cock. Make yourself come. Do it hard, Harry._

Harry complied and let Sirius' voice hypnotize his mind and dominate his body. Furious strokes on his cock and sharp pinches to his sac, and Sirius was there to guide him and command him and make him feel happy and not alone. 

As long as he had Sirius, Harry would never be alone, even if their time together was limited to shadowed meetings in the dead of night. 

_Come. Now._

"Yes, yes," Harry breathed, eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his heels to the mattress. His body did everything Sirius told it to do and his mind was wiped clean with waves of pleasure that rushed from this sac through his entire body. 

_Sleep now. Sleep, Harry, and all your troubles will go away._

"Sirius," was the last thing Harry said as an invisible body spooned against him and a hand that wasn't there stroked his hair in soothing touches.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry was getting impatient. For some reason, Dean had decided to complete his Herbology homework in bed and his light was still on. Had been on for the last hour.

Turning on his other side, Harry released a strangled sigh. He needed his time with Sirius. It was what kept him going these days, what enabled him to smile at his friends and pay attention in class and stay out of trouble. 

He needed Sirius, but he knew Sirius wouldn't come until the lights were out. For the past three weeks, Sirius had only visited him after dark. 

A rustling of sheets, and then at last Dean extinguished his light. Harry let out a deep breath and rolled on his back. 

"Sirius?" he whispered. 

_Yes._

Harry smiled and pushed the sheets down. He'd already wormed out of his pyjamas earlier, and he shivered as the chilly air touched his skin. 

_Eager, aren't we?_

"Yeah." Harry grinned up into the darkness and closed his eyes, because if he closed his eyes he could hear Sirius even better. Except he didn't really hear Sirius' voice. He felt it, as a tickle over his body, a warm touch to his cock and assuring thoughts in this mind. 

_Touch yourself for me, Harry._

Harry fisted his cock, just like he'd done for Sirius before, just like Sirius wanted him to touch himself. Hard. So hard it hurt. 

_I want you to touch yourself there._

"Okay," Harry sighed. When Sirius had first ordered him to touch his own arse Harry had thought it weird, but he hadn't questioned Sirius. He'd never question Sirius. And after a few tries Harry had learned it felt rather good to touch himself _there_. 

He sucked a finger into his mouth until it was moist with his saliva, and then he lowered it between his spread legs. The first slick brush over his pucker made Harry moan, and as he slid his finger inside his channel he had to bite his lip to stifle a louder groan. He'd long since learned how to cast a silencing charm on his curtains, but he didn't want to take any risks. No one needed to know what Harry did in his bed at night. 

_Deeper._

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice cracking. He squeezed around his cock, running his thumb over the head, and thrust his finger inside deeper until he touched that spot that made him quiver and beg Sirius for more. 

In the past weeks, Sirius' presence had become more profound. Harry could almost feel the weight of Sirius' body on his own and the tension of Sirius' mind pressed his own head to the pillow. 

He loved that feeling and always wanted more of it, always allowed Sirius access to whatever part of him Sirius wanted to explore. 

_Now make it hurt, Harry._

And Harry did just that. He knew how to make it hurt just enough that it felt so good he never wanted it to end. Sirius was all over him, unseen flutters of his fingers, soft caresses of his voice in Harry's thoughts, everything bearing down on Harry until he thought he might suffocate, but that aroused him even more.

_Let me in. You need to let me in if you want me to make you feel good._

"I'm already..." Harry gasped, curling his finger inside his body as he pulled on his cock. He didn't understand what Sirius wanted of him. 

_No, you're not. Let me in. Now._

Harry tried to relax under the onslaught of pleasure and pain, because he wanted to do what Sirius told him. He wanted to make Sirius happy, because Sirius always made him happy. 

Sirius was inside him now, so much that Harry felt his eyes roll back. Sirius was inside his mind and would never leave him again, would always be there for him and would always make him feel good. 

Sirius was tearing at his thoughts, at his memories, as Harry fisted harder and harder, feeling his climax build in sharp thrusts. 

Sirius felt cold, so cold in Harry's mind, and Harry didn't understand why, because how could something so good feel so cold? 

_Don't stop, Potter._

Harry froze. He stopped thrusting his finger inside his body and stilled his hand around his cock. 

What had Sirius just called him?

_I said, don't stop!_

"No," he whispered as something began to dawn on him. "You stop."

_I don't think so._

And then pleasure and pain hit Harry while he wasn't even moving, while he wasn't even touching himself. He tried to stop it, he tried to scream and pull away from the hands that held him down while something thundered through his mind. 

A searing surge of pain shot through his forehead, his scar, and Harry climaxed in hot spurts, unable to contain the pleasure even though someone was stealing his thoughts, his memories. 

He panted and trembled and came down from his orgasm and slowly felt the pressure in his mind ease until the pain in his scar transformed to a faint throb. 

_Thank you, Harry. That was most generous of you._

Harry gaped up into the darkness, his finger still buried inside his arse and his other hand covered in warm, slick semen. 

"Sirius?" he tried, even though he knew it wasn't Sirius, had never been Sirius, but he wanted it to be. God, it had to be Sirius. 

Sirius couldn't be _gone._

Swallowing back bile Harry slowly pushed himself up, and as his mind cleared he realized what had happened. 

What he had let happen. 

Without thinking, Harry jumped out of bed. He reached for his dressing gown and was already halfway down the stairs by the time he'd put it on. 

He ran through the deserted corridors, his steps echoing around him all the way down to the dungeons. 

It had to be Sirius. It had to be. 

But it wasn't, and Harry knew. He understood it now. 

"Professor!" Harry banged on the wooden door as hard as he could. "Professor, wake up!"

There was no one there, just darkness and cold, damp stones around him, and Harry didn't think he'd ever felt this alone before. He slumped to the floor, his fist still pounding on the door. 

"Professor."

Footsteps grew louder and then the door swung open and a very distraught Snape, wearing a black dressing down, glared down at Harry.

"Have you gone completely insane, Potter?"

"You have to...I have to...I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." Harry couldn't look at Snape as he tried to forget how good it had felt. 

"Potter? What are you doing here?"

"You have to teach me Occlumency. You have to."

Snape's expression changed, though he still seemed less than happy with Harry's presence. "What happened?"

Finally, Harry glanced up at Snape and tried to tell him. He tried to tell him that Voldemort had tricked his way into Harry's mind and Harry had let him. He'd let Voldemort read every last one of his thoughts just because Voldemort had got him off. 

Harry leaned over and heaved, his stomach, thankfully empty, trying to rid itself of the memories that were lodged in Harry's mind. 

"Get inside," Snape snarled, taking a step back. 

Reaching for the doorway with a trembling hand, Harry managed to pull himself up. 

"Thank you," he whispered, shuffling inside Snape's office. Snape said nothing and threw the door shut with a bang. 

 

~~fin~~


End file.
